


Happily Alone

by violue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (mentioned) Past Castiel/Meg, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Drunk Texting, Hand Jobs, Hangover, M/M, Panty Kink, Past Dean/Other(s), Rock Stars, Skirt Kink, Texting, Winchester Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7024420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean used to imagine being a rock star, he pictured enjoying it more than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to Lydie, Emmy, and Kris for the beta. <3
> 
>  
> 
> Written for Destiel Smut Brigade Bingo, card is shown below.

 

 

The crowd is enthusiastic tonight. But then, it always is. Six shows in six nights all over Vegas, and this is night number six. Dean’s exhausted. He thought a week in the same area would be more relaxing than grabbing sleep on the tour bus in between gigs, but somehow he’s gotten even _less_ sleep.

Could be all the gambling and drinking.

 _Nah_.

The Colosseum, Encore Theater, The Tropicana, The Joint, The Pearl, and wherever the fuck he is tonight, belting out the same set he’s been singing for well over a month; the same set he’ll be singing for another thirty-three days. Songs he wrote to cope with his father’s death six years ago, songs he wrote to cope with his broken engagement three years ago, songs about being on the road, songs about love. Then of course his real bread and butter, one classic rock cover. Happily Alone started off as a classic rock cover band, and they’ve got to pay homage to that.

The crowds love when he does Skynyrd’s Simple Man, the band loves when he does Whipping Post, Dean loves doing Sister Christian. They cycle through those and more. It’s pretty much the only thing that changes from concert to concert. Tonight it’s a Whipping Post night. The band powers through chords and beats perfected by The Allman Brothers while Dean bounces from spot to spot on the stage, doing his best to give these people a show.

His heart’s not in it, but no one needs to know that. He’s just homesick. This is his first big tour, and he wasn’t ready. _They_ weren’t ready.

 

*

 

The show ends, Dean and the band wave and holler and greet a few VIPs offstage for autographs and selfies and all that shit, and then they part ways.

In the old days, the _good_ days, Dean and his bandmates would be on cloud nine after a half-sold show at a club in Lawrence, buying rounds for their few groupies, talking excitedly about their favorite parts, practically squealing with delight if a few shirts sold from their merch table. Back when they liked each other.

Nowadays they don’t really get along.

Dean hasn’t said more than two words to Benny since he caught him fucking one of the roadies in the tour bus, and Dean laid into him for being the kind of band asshole they used to make fun of when they were younger, the kind that fucked around with an unsuspecting wife waiting at home. That was three weeks ago. Benny’s pissed that Dean doesn’t “have his back”, and Dean’s pissed that Benny is being “that guy”.

Gadreel doesn’t really have anything against Dean, but Gadreel and Benny are best friends, so Gadreel is on Benny’s side about most things, including this. So… Gadreel’s not really speaking to Dean either.

Then there’s Crowley. _No one’s_ talking to Crowley. None of them realized how hard Crowley was to deal with in large doses until they were trapped in a tour bus together.

Dean, Benny, and Gadreel will hopefully patch things up eventually, but there’s a good chance that after this tour they’ll be looking for a new drummer. Dean’s known Crowley a few years now and he honestly never realized what a damn dick he can be. He lost his shit when the studio’s album mock-up had Dean featured front and center. Crowley is rude to the band, he’s rude to the roadies, he’s rude to venue staff, and worst of all, he’s rude to _fans._

So, yeah. This tour sucks. Hitting the big time sucks. Dean’s growing to resent his own music, his own fame, and meanwhile his family back home thinks Dean’s off living his fucking dream. Sam lives for Dean’s texts and photos from his various gigs, Dean’s mother has a _scrapbook_ of Dean’s accomplishments and wears Happily Alone merchandise any chance she gets, and his friends back in Lawrence constantly text Dean to tell him how proud they are.

Dean thinks about quitting a lot. But it would be hard to face them all again, hard to go back to his old life with his tail between his legs.

At least he’s got plenty of money squirreled away. Maybe he’ll quit the band and become a hermit for several years, emerging only when everyone has forgotten all about Dean Winchester and his godforsaken group of assholes. Maybe he’ll open a restaurant or become a guitar teacher or some shit.

Yeah, maybe. _Maybe_ he’ll work things out with his band. _Maybe_ he’ll get a career that he doesn’t fucking hate so he can learn to love music the way he used to. Maybe.

For now, though, Dean drinks, and he drinks a lot. He drinks until the room around him is fuzzy, and everything is funny. He drinks until he forgets how much he used to love singing, and how much he hates it now. And then to cap off the night, he drinks some more.

 

*

 

 

Someone’s fingers are on Dean’s neck, which shouldn’t be happening because he went to sleep alone, didn’t he? He groans, batting the firm hand away.

“S’op it,” he whines, “I’m sleeping for fuck’s sake.”

“I was checking your pulse,” comes the dry reply. The voice is deep, gritty, and Dean doesn’t recognize it. He cracks one eye open, wincing before opening the other. Apparently he left the blinds open last night, and it is fucking _bright_ in here. There’s a man frowning down at him. Tanned skin, icy blue eyes, brown hair that looks so soft Dean wants to curl up and sleep in it. It’d certainly be more comfortable than this shit bed.

Or… Dean glances around at his surroundings. Maybe he’s not on the bed at all, maybe he’s lying on the floor in between the bed and the wall. Fuck, no wonder his back hurts. The man is wearing black slacks and a dark gray short-sleeved button up shirt with tiny golden wings emblazoned on the chest, which means he’s part of the hotel’s cleaning staff.

“Do maids usually just barge into occupied rooms?” Dean grouses, trying and failing to sit up. He groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“It’s one in the afternoon. Generally when our guests do not wish to be disturbed, they take advantage of one of the many ways there are to let us know not to come in, which you did not.”

“Guess I partied too hard to remember my door hangy-thing.”

The man disappears for a moment, and Dean actually starts to doze again until he feels something nudging the boots he apparently never took off. The man is holding a glass of water, and Dean’s suddenly aware of how fucking _dry_ his mouth is. His tongue feels like a shriveled up piece of sandpaper, Jesus. He reaches a hand out, but the man shakes his head.

“Sit up.”

“Can’t.”

The man sighs, setting the glass on the room’s desk and reaching down with both hands, pulling Dean to his feet. It’s a struggle, and Dean’s only upright for ten seconds before he drops like a stone onto the mattress, rebounding enough to throw his feet over the edge of the bed until he’s sitting up. God, Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been this hungover. The fact that he didn’t wake up covered in piss or vomit is an actual miracle. He accepts the water, stomach roiling unpleasantly as he guzzles it down too quickly. He hands the man his glass and flops onto his back, eyes closing.

“Time did you say it was?” he mutters.

“Just after one. I hope you didn’t have a morning or lunch meeting, because you’ve surely missed it.”

“Nope… s’ my free day.” Dean feels fingers at his feet, and it takes a few long seconds for him to realize the guy is untying his boots. “This part of the hotel’s services?”

“Pity is just one of the many amenities of the Holy Roller Hotel and Casino,” the man says, voice dripping with derision as he pulls Dean’s left boot off and gets the work on the right.

“Either that, or you’re a fan and you’re gonna steal my boots to sell on Ebay,” Dean grumbles.

“A fan of what?” Dean’s boots get set aside, and Dean lies on the bed fully.

“Don’t you know who I am?” Dean says, flushing with embarrassment when he realizes how _snooty_ that sounds. “I mean… not that you _should,_ I just—”

“The room is registered to a Dan Westchester, so I assume that’s you.”

“It’s an _alias_. You really don’t know who I am?”

“Are you going to have me fired if I say no?” The worker starts cleaning as he talks, picking up all the garbage Dean has accumulated since he last let the cleaning staff in three days ago.

“ _No,_ it’s just… I’ve been staying here all week and the workers have been asking for my autograph or a quick selfie every time they spot me.”

“Well, I apologize if your feelings are hurt, I don’t watch much television.”

“I’m not an _actor._ ”

“Motivational speaker, then?” God damn, this guy is an asshole.

“I’m a _musician,_ ” Dean says, affronted.

The man lets out a huff of amused laughter. “Ah. And your band is named Happily Alone, judging by the merchandise in here… _oh,_ here you are,” the man says. Dean looks over to see him holding up a t-shirt with Dean and the band on the front.

“Yeah.”

“Happily Alone seems like an odd name if you’re a four person band.”

“Yeah well I’ll let the band know my _maid_ thinks our name sucks.”

“Castiel,” the man says.

“What?”

“Let them know _Castiel_ thinks your name sucks.”

“You know, if I _was_ the type to have people fired, you’d be out on your ass by now.”

Castiel lets out that little laugh again. “Well then, today is my lucky day, Mr…”

“Dean.”

“Mr. Dean.”

Dean groans. “Dean is my _first name_. Dean Winchester.”

“Mr. Dean Winchester.”

Dean rolls his eyes before covering them with his arm again. It’s still really, really bright in here.

“Rough night, Mr. Winchester?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Yes, it was a rough night. I drank too much.”

“No kidding?” Castiel says, and Dean can hear the sound of him collecting beer cans from the floor as he says it. Dick.

“Sometimes a man has to self medicate.”

“Just remember, cirrhosis can’t be medicated with alcohol.”

Dean’s about ready to chuck a pillow at this guy. “Thanks, ma. I’ll make a note of it just as soon as this hangover clears up.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“What, my hangover?”

There’s an annoyed sigh from the other end of the room. “The emotional turmoil that lead to you seeking refuge in alcohol.”

“Why the fuck would I want to talk about it?” Dean’s too lazy to look at Castiel, but whatever he’s doing is making the room smell faintly of vanilla.

“Sometimes these things are easier to unload on a stranger.”

“Off the record?”

There’s a pause. “Off… what record?”

Dean sighs. “I’m saying don’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I going to tell?”

“I don’t know, the internet? I’m famous, you know,” Dean says, jolting when he feels a cool, wet cloth being placed over his eyes and forehead. “Fuck, I wanna marry you.”

“My family would never approve of my marrying a musician,” Castiel says blandly, and Dean wonders if he’s joking.

“I hate my career.”

“Look at that, we have something in common. Go on.”

“I think that’s about it.”

“Why do you hate it?”

“I love music… or I did… and they say fame changes things, but I thought… I’m gonna stay me, so it’ll be fine. I was wrong. I wasn’t ready. Yeah, I’m not _Bono_ or anything, but I’m famous. Things are under a microscope all the time. I once saw a two page article in a tabloid about whether or not I was fucking a woman someone photographed me hugging.”

“Were you?”

“She was my _cousin_.”

“Oh.”

“My ex-boyfriend sold old pictures and videos of me to a website, and I learned how very few people seem to actually grasp the concept of bisexuality. People take pictures of me when I’m buying groceries. A woman found my mom’s home address and kept mailing her long, creepy letters meant for me. And at first, I was cool with it. Price of fame, you know? Having fans is _awesome_ , being around all that love is amazing, and I’ve always been a people-person for the most part. But man, it just never stops. Can’t have a bad day without dozens… hundreds… _thousands_ of people knowing about it. People look up to me, and it’s… it’s responsibility.” Dean groans. “Yeah, poor little rich rock star, right?”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Yeah? What were you thinking?”

“That maybe cleaning hotel rooms isn’t so bad after all.”

“ _Thanks_.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“It’s not just the attention, though. It’s not just having to be _on_ all the fucking time. I’m sick of my music. I’m sick of my _own fucking music,_ and music was what got me through some rough, rough patches in my life. But singing it over and over, remembering how I felt when I wrote those songs, _over and over,_ Jesus fuck, man. It’s repetitive _and_ depressing. Plus, it turns out I don’t get along well with my band when we’re basically living together on the road. We’re not even speaking, and I’ve known those assholes for years. God, all I want to do is go home, go back to playing acoustic sets in my Aunt Ellen’s bar and enjoying myself, and feeling that rush when someone comes up after a show and says ‘Hey, that made me feel.’ I miss that.”

“No offense, but you seem… ill suited to fame.”

“I fucking _am._ But I didn’t know that ahead of time. Look, when you’re a bored mechanic coming off a broken engagement and someone waltzes over and hands you your boyhood dream, you fucking _take it_ , alright? Who the fuck wouldn’t? I didn’t know it would make me so unhappy until it was way too fucking late. Honestly, I’d walk away right fucking now if I could.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m under a damn contract. Gotta finish the tour. Thirty-three… thirty- _two_ more days. New album’s launched, and the label said it needed a tour. A long, long tour.”

“Do you think you might walk away, then? At the end of the tour?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… yeah.” Just saying that out loud eases a weight on Dean’s chest that he didn’t even know was there. “I hate this. It isn’t for me… and I don’t think doing it even longer, committing to more albums, more tours… maybe getting more famous… that’s not going to make me happy.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best. Resentment towards one’s own fame has led to many a tragedy in the past.”

“Okay well that’s dark, but yeah, I guess.” Dean groans. “Fuck. _Fuck,_ man, it feels good to get that out. Thanks for talking to me about this,” he says, sighing with relief.

“Well, all of the hotel staff have been trained to act as counselors for our guests.”

“Holy shit, really?”

Castiel lets out a snort. “No. What kind of hotel would do that?”

“My head’s sluggish from the hangover, okay?”

“Sure, blame the hangover.”

Castiel disappears to clean the bathroom, and Dean slowly drifts, comforted by the cool cloth over his eyes, and the sound of Castiel humming some nameless tune as he works.

 

*

 

When Dean wakes again, the cloth over his eyes is dry, and the room is dark. His headache is gone, but _fuck_ he’s hungry and he’s never had to pee so bad in his life. He all but sprints to the bathroom to relieve himself and splash some cold water on his face. There’s a post-it stuck to the mirror with a phone number and a note.

**Thirty-two days is a long time. I’m here if you ever want to chat.**

**-Castiel**

 

 

*

 

Sure, it would be nice if Dean finally admitting he wants to quit the band led to him feeling better immediately, with him maybe enjoying the tour more, or patching things up with the band. But, that’s not really what happens. He feels lighter, sure, but he’s still got this month to slog through, and he’s actually enjoying himself even _less_ now that he knows he wants to leave the business.

A week after his string of shows in Vegas, Dean finally texts the number he’s been carrying around in his wallet.

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:18am:** i told the band i was quitting after the tour theyre so mad

 **RECEIVED - 5/25 - 1:19am:** Who is this?

 **RECEIVED - 5/25 - 1:19am:** Dean?

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:20am:** bingo mr castiel whateveryourlastnameis

 **RECEIVED - 5/25 - 1:21am:** It’s Novak. I’m sorry that your bandmates are angry, but better to come clean sooner rather than later, right?

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:24am:** my bass player bailed we had to scramble to find a replacement it was a mess

 **RECEIVED - 5/25 - 1:25am:** Did you have a show tonight, then? Did it go well?

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:26am:** yeah turns out the guy that drives our tour bus can fuckin slay on bass

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:27am:** cain would be awesome for the band if i wasnt fucking quitting

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:27am:** at least he can help out if benny doesn’t come back

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:28am:** benny will come back though he’s just disappointed

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:33am:** it’s not like lead singers don’t get replaced

 **SENT - 5/25 - 1:36am:** cas???

 **RECEIVED - 5/25 - 1:59am:** I apologize, I fell asleep. I don’t stay up very late during the week.

 **SENT - 5/25 - 2:00am:** oops sorry

 **RECEIVED - 5/25 - 2:02am:** Don’t be. I said I was here if you wanted to chat.

 **SENT - 5/25 - 2:03am:** yeah but it’s late i forget not everyone is up till two drinking

 **RECEIVED - 5/25 - 2:04am:** It’s actually only midnight here.

 **SENT - 5/25 - 2:06am:** oh cool

 **SENT - 5/25 - 2:06am:** i’m in new orleans

 **SENT - 5/25 - 2:07am:** its warm and im drunk

 **SENT - 5/25 - 2:07am:** go back to sleep cas ill talk to you later

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 5/27 - 3:15pm:** Where are you today?

 **SENT - 5/27 - 4:41pm:** Albuquerque.

 **RECEIVED - 5/27 - 4:58pm:** Las Vegas, to New Orleans, to Albuquerque?

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:13pm:** God, I know. I didn’t organize this tour, I would have planned it better. This zigzagging is bullshit.

 **RECEIVED - 5/27 - 5:25pm:** How is Albuquerque?

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:26pm:** Big. Crowded. Wish I was here for the Balloon Fiesta. Ever been?

 **RECEIVED - 5/27 - 5:30pm:** I haven’t.

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:33pm:** It’s great. I came to see it once when I was twelve. My dad drove me all the way from Kansas.

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:34pm:** My little brother had the chicken pox, so it was just the two of us while Sammy stayed with my mom. It was awesome.

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:35pm:** There are only certain colors you see in the sky, you know? Blue, gray, white, sunset-y colors.

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:37pm:** But during the fiesta you see them all up in the sky.

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:38pm:** And not just different colors, shapes too. Corporate mascots and shit. It was amazing, especially as a kid.

 **RECEIVED - 5/27 - 5:41pm:** That sounds wonderful, Dean.

 **SENT - 5/27 - 5:43pm:** Wish I could show you pictures, but they’re all in photo albums at my mom’s house. You should google it though. You’ll get the idea.

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 5/28 - 1:01am:** I think I really want to go to this Balloon Fiesta thing some day.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:18am:** im drunk again

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:19am:** youre probably not awake

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:19am:** cas?

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:25am:** benny came back hes not talking to me but thats not new

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:29am:** he was my best friend

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:31am:** he taught me to play guitar

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:32am:** now hes kind of a dick

 **SENT - 5/31 - 3:06am:** you know what cas im really starting to think youre not awake

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 7:10am:** I sincerely hope you’re not still awake.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 1:04pm:** Nah, I was getting my beauty sleep.

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 1:15pm:** Did it work?

 **SENT - 5/31 - 1:17pm:** [IMAGE ATTACHED]

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 1:20pm:** Aw, that’s too bad.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 1:23pm:** Fuck you, I look incredible.

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 1:24pm:** I wouldn’t want to contribute to your probably inflated rockstar ego.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:09pm:** Dean Winchester doesn’t have an inflated rockstar ego, Dean Winchester is a rock GOD, Cas.

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 2:14pm:** Are you drunk again?

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:15pm:** Do I seem drunk?

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 2:17pm:** Not really, you get lazy with your capitalization and punctuation when you’re drunk, I’ve noticed.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:23pm:** I’m a fucking rebel like that.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:25pm:** Text me your address.

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 2:42pm:** Why?

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:44pm:** I’m sending you a surprise.

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 2:47pm:** What is it?

 **SENT - 5/31 - 2:48pm:** You seem educated enough to know what a SURPRISE is, man.

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 2:54pm:** I don’t like surprises. Surprises are usually pranks, and I hate pranks.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 3:02pm:** Get pranked a lot as a kid?

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 3:08pm:** And as an adult. My brother is a child trapped in an adult body.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 3:10pm:** Sucks to be you.

 **SENT - 5/31 - 3:10pm:** Give me your address.

 **RECEIVED - 5/31 - 3:13pm:** Fine.

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 6:17pm:** What in the hell am I supposed to do with this?

 **SENT - 6/03 - 7:10pm:** HEY it came!

 **SENT - 6/03 - 7:11pm:** Is this how you thank people that send you presents, Cas?

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 7:16pm:** I’m not thanking you for this.

 **SENT - 6/03 - 7:19pm:** Just trying to make sure you don’t feel lonely. :)

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 7:24pm:** I am not lonely, I have a roommate.

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 7:25pm:** She signed for the package while I wasn’t home. Then she opened it, because she’s an asshole.

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 7:26pm:** Then she wouldn’t stop laughing at me for “ordering” a cardboard cutout of Dean Winchester.

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 7:28pm:** When I told her it was a prank, she asked if she could have it.

 **SENT - 6/03 - 7:34pm:** You gave it to her, didn’t you.

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 7:38pm:** She hates your music, but she thinks you’re really hot.

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 7:39pm:** Congratulations, you’ve mailed my roommate a masturbatory aid.

 **SENT - 6/03 - 7:51pm:** She hates my music?

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 8:01pm:** Apparently her ex was a big fan, so Meg hates your music on principle.

 **SENT - 6/03 - 8:16pm:** Harsh. At least she still thinks I’m hot.

 **RECEIVED - 6/03 - 8:17pm:** Meanwhile, I think you’re appalling.

 **SENT - 6/03 - 8:18pm:** :) Almost time to go on stage, hope your roommate doesn’t get any papercuts.

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 6:31pm:** [IMAGE ATTACHED]

 **SENT - 6/04 - 6:42pm:** DUDE WHY

 **SENT - 6/04 - 6:43pm:** Whose fucking panties are those?

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 6:47pm:** Meg’s. She thinks they look good on cardboard you.

 **SENT - 6/04 - 6:50pm:** Look, if I was going to wear chick underwear, I wouldn’t wear it OVER my fucking pants.

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 6:51pm:** Cardboard you has his limitations.

 **SENT - 6/04 - 6:55pm:** Does she know where you got the cutout?

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 6:58pm:** No, shall I tell her?

 **SENT - 6/04 - 7:10pm:** Nah.

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 7:12pm:** I listened to your album today.

 **SENT - 6/04 - 7:15pm:** Really? Thanks for the fifteen bucks.

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 7:16pm:** Meg torrented it.

 **SENT - 6/04 - 7:20pm:** Okay well then thanks for nothing. I don’t think I like Meg.

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 7:23pm:** She listened to it with me. She’s a fan now.

 **SENT - 6/04 - 7:24pm:** And you?

 **RECEIVED - 6/04 - 7:25pm:** You have a lovely voice, and the lyrics are solid. According to Wikipedia, you wrote the songs yourself.

 **SENT - 6/04 - 7:27pm:** You can’t believe everything you read on Wikipedia, Cas.

 **SENT - 6/04 - 7:28pm:** Except that, because it’s true.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/07 - 11:52pm:** WELL I DON’T FUCKING LIKE KENTUCKY

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/09 - 9:59am:** What do you do for fun?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:03pm:** Clean urine off of shower walls.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:05pm:** For fuck’s sake, I’m eating.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:07pm:** So am I.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:08pm:** I build things with Legos.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:10pm:** Legos? Really?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:13pm:** [IMAGE ATTACHED]

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:15pm:** Jesus fucking christ how long did that take?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:16pm:** Seven weeks. I build a little at a time. The basement shot is kind of blurry, here’s one of it outside.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:16pm:** [IMAGE ATTACHED]

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:18pm:** You know what I kind of assumed you lived in some tiny apartment somewhere, that room looked huge.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:19pm:** It’s Meg’s house. It’s over an hour from where I work, but I was living with my brother for six months and ready to take his life.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:22pm:** This pic is awesome, man. The butterfly looks AMAZING. It looks expensive as fuck, too.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:24pm:** Meg isn’t charging rent.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:25pm:** She taking it out in trade? ;)

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:26pm:** I’m gay.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:27pm:** And Meg stole my brand new car six years ago, and then totaled it. She owes me a lot of money. I can live here free for years.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:30pm:** You guys are close, huh?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:32pm:** The bonds forged in astronomy camp last a lifetime.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:36pm:** Wait.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:36pm:** Legos.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:37pm:** ASTRONOMY CAMP.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:37pm:** Are you a NERD, Cas?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 12:40pm:** Are you twelve, Dean?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:41pm:** Touche.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:43pm:** What else do you do?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 12:59pm:** Cas?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 1:18pm:** CAAAAAAAAAAAAAS

 **SENT - 6/09 - 1:35pm:** SORRY FOR CALLING YOU A NERD.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 2:06pm:** I’m at work, you know. Sometimes I must set my phone down and do my job.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 2:10pm:** Hey, I’m at work too. Or I will be.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 2:13pm:** Headed for lunch with the label. They’re trying to convince me to sign a new contract. Benny told them I was leaving.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 2:14pm:** Will you sign?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 2:15pm:** Dude no we talked about this.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 2:17pm:** People change their minds all the time.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 2:24pm:** This life isn’t what I want. I had a good lawyer draw up my deal, had a good contract, made a ton of fucking cash for a relative newbie.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 2:26pm:** Legally, I don’t owe anyone shit after this tour. They’re just gonna offer me money and fame and shit I don’t want.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 2:28pm:** What if they offer you a lot of money?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 2:30pm:** Not interested.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/09 - 5:19pm:** God they offered a lot of money.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 5:40pm:** A lot?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 5:48pm:** A lot. There was a spiel about passionate fanbases, merchandise, another tour, blah, blah, blah.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 5:51pm:** Money, power, and glory?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 5:52pm:** Jesus fucking christ are you a fucking Lana Del Rey fan?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 5:53pm:** Before you make fun of me, you should take a moment to realize you clearly know the song too.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 5:54pm:** Shut up.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 5:55pm:** So, what happened?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 5:59pm:** I turned them down. Then they offered me money to sign any claim over the band name and the performance rights for songs on the album.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 6:01pm:** I gotta talk to Sam about it first.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 6:02pm:** Sam?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 6:03pm:** I thought you read my Wiki page.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 6:05pm:** I didn’t MEMORIZE it, I didn’t know there would be a quiz.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 6:06pm:** Well Sammy’s my brother. And my lawyer.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 6:08pm:** Talking this over with a lawyer is a good idea, I’m glad you didn’t make any decisions on the fly.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 6:10pm:** Thinking I might take the deal though. The band shouldn’t have to stop just because I want to. The label wants to get a new lead singer in.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 6:15pm:** But they’re your songs.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 6:16pm:** I can write more songs. I do write more songs.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 6:24pm:** In any case, taking time to figure it out is still better.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 6:27pm:** In ten days, I’ll have plenty of time to sit back and figure it out.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/09 - 10:57pm:** Just realized in order to have Sam look over this contract shit I’ll have to actually tell him I’m quitting. Haven’t told the family yet.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:15pm:** Are you worried they’ll be angry?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:20pm:** Guess not. But it feels like I’m letting them down somehow, you know? Sam’s a hotshot lawyer, but he still looks up to me.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:21pm:** I don’t want him to see me as someone that reached for the stars and couldn’t take the heat.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:24pm:** If he looks up to you, I don’t think he would. Are you close?

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:25pm:** Yeah, we’re close. You’re probably right, but it’s scary.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:27pm:** I know we don’t really know each other, but I’m proud of you anyway. For seeing that your situation wasn’t for you, and making the choice to get yourself out.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:30pm:** Thanks, I needed to hear that.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:30pm:** Or I guess read that.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:31pm:** Hey so what about you? You have a brother, right? Are you close?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:33pm:** To a degree.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:34pm:** I have three older brothers. Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel. We’re not the kind of brothers that are friends necessarily.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:34pm:** But we care about each other, and we are there for each other.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:36pm:** You just hate living with them?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:38pm:** Gabriel is the one I was living with. He’s loud and slovenly and eats my groceries.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:42pm:** Wait. Lucifer.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:43pm:** Yes.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:43pm:** Lucifer NOVAK.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:44pm:** Again, yes.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:46pm:** The guy that ran when the cops came after him for embezzlement and was found at an ORGY in Vegas.

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:48pm:** You watch the news, congratulations.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:51pm:** I do when ORGIES are involved, man. That was big news at the time. Didn’t keep up with the case though, what happened?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:55pm:** Well, he went to jail. A year for the evasion, three years for the embezzlement. Assets frozen, property seized, etc.

 **SENT - 6/09 - 11:56pm:** That’s it?

 **RECEIVED - 6/09 - 11:59pm:** Lucifer had a very good attorney.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:05am:** That was back what, a year ago? Two?

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:09am:** Two, but Lucifer wasn’t officially sentenced until July of last year. He’ll be out on October 13th 2019.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:14am:** Do you visit him?

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:16am:** Yes. It’s why we moved to Nevada.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:17am:** To be there for each other.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:18am:** Exactly. Michael lives closer to the prison, it’s actually a good seven hours from the Strip. But Gabriel and I ended up in the Vegas area.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:19am:** We stayed with Meg because she and I are old friends, then got our own place, then I moved back in with Meg.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:21am:** Before all this, I was working at a comic book/toy and hobby shop in Illinois.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:33am:** Do you miss it?

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:34am:** I miss my circle of friends. We did things you would probably consider nerdy, but I had a good time.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:36am:** I don’t have friends here in Nevada, other than Meg.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:39am:** I play Dungeons and Dragons.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:40am:** What?

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:42am:** Just saying I have nerdiness in me too.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:43am:** Really, now.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:45am:** Well I used to. It’s been a long time. But I still have Naehorn’s character sheet.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:47am:** Naehorn?

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:48am:** My elven cleric.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:49am:** This is FASCINATING.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:51am:** Don’t make fun.

 **RECEIVED - 6/10 - 12:53am:** I can’t wait to pass this along to the people at TNZ.

 **SENT - 6/10 - 12:55am:** It’s TMZ, you jackass.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/11 - 7:19pm:** Connecticut is fucking boring.

 **SENT - 6/11 - 7:26pm:** Then again, I’m from Kansas, so I can’t judge.

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 6/12 - 8:13am:** Did you talk to your brother?

 **SENT - 6/12 - 10:55am:** No, I’m just going to wait until after the tour so I can do it in person.

 **RECEIVED - 6/12 - 11:37am:** What if someone beats you to it?

 **SENT - 6/12 - 12:59pm:** Easier for me, then.

 **RECEIVED - 6/12 - 1:05pm:** And here I thought you were so brave.

 **SENT - 6/12 - 1:08pm:** I’m brave. I’m brave as fuck. I’m fucking Braveheart.

 **RECEIVED - 6/12 - 1:15pm:** You know the real William Wallace was castrated during his execution?

 **SENT - 6/12 - 1:16pm:** WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/13 - 11:12pm:** what are you wearing

 **RECEIVED - 6/13 - 11:15pm:** A french maid uniform and black high heels.

 **SENT - 6/13 - 11:16pm:** that is fuckin hot

 **RECEIVED - 6/13 - 11:17pm:** It’s also an obvious lie, how drunk ARE you?

 **SENT - 6/13 - 11:24pm:** i didnt think you were serious but its still hot man

 **SENT - 6/13 - 11:25pm:** i could see you dressed like the maid in beauty and the beast she was hot

 **RECEIVED - 6/13 - 11:30pm:** Wasn’t she a feather duster?

 **SENT - 6/13 - 11:45pm:** i dont make the rules cas

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:21pm:** I’m on a date and it’s horrible.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:23pm:** Meg set us up, so I should have known he would be awful.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:24pm:** He is incredibly full of himself and he very obviously wants me to agree that he’s amazing.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:25pm:** He’s wearing a v-neck. He’s snobby.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:28pm:** He went to the bathroom over ten minutes ago, I think he might have actually left.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:29pm:** He was flirting very hard and I wasn’t really into it.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:34pm:** I showed him my Lego butterfly, he said it was cute, and mentioned he hadn’t played with Legos since he was a child.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:35pm:** I know that doesn’t sound very rude, but the way he said it was rude.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:38pm:** He definitely left. Should I go too?

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 8:40pm:** Actually, I’m hungry and this restaurant makes wonderful chicken parmesan.

 **SENT - 6/14 - 11:40pm:** I was on stage, sorry man. Did he really ditch you?

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 11:42pm:** Yes.

 **SENT - 6/14 - 11:45pm:** Dude, that really sucks. I’m sorry.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 11:46pm:** It’s okay. I didn’t like him in the slightest. It’s just insulting.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 11:47pm:** He’s at least ten years older than I am, which in my opinion is far too old to be skipping out on a date with no word.

 **SENT - 6/14 - 11:48pm:** Was the chicken parm good at least?

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 11:53pm:** It was divine.

 **SENT - 6/14 - 11:56pm:** Still sorry the date was shit.

 **RECEIVED - 6/14 - 11:58pm:** Haven’t been out on one in a long time, good to get my feet wet, I guess. Just wish it hadn’t been terrible.

 **SENT - 6/15: 12:06am:** I’ll take you on a date.

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:08am:** Oh you will, will you?

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:09am:** Sure. After the tour.

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:10am:** And where will we be going?

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:12am:** Depends. Is our date happening in Vegas, or in Kansas?

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:15am:** Let’s go with Kansas. I’ve never been there.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:16am:** Ok well Lawrence is LAWRENCE so there’s not a lot of excitement compared to the strip.

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:17am:** I’m okay with that.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:20am:** Okay, so we’ll go to The Burger Stand. Great gourmet burgers, delicious fucking fries.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:21am:** I’ll get the truffle fries with my burger, you get the sweet potato fries, we’ll share.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:22am:** But there’s also duck fat fries, poutine fries, and bacon cheddar fries, shit.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:23am:** Anyway after that there’s this hipster bar we could go to that usually has live music.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:24am:** Or we could go to this thing where you get “locked” in a room for an hour and have to solve puzzles to get out.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:25am:** I haven’t been there but my brother went for a party earlier this year and raved about it.

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:27am:** Definitely the puzzle thing. :) I’m good at puzzles.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:30am:** You’d better be, because there’s only going to be the two of us and we’ll need all the brainpower we can get.

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:35am:** So, when is this date happening?

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:36am:** Just as soon as you can drive out to Kansas.

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:39am:** I’m starting to think you’re serious.

 **SENT - 6/15 - 12:40am:** 100% serious.

 **RECEIVED - 6/15 - 12:47am:** I’ll see what I can do.

 

*

 

 

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:03am:** [IMAGE ATTACHED]

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:07am:** I don’t know how to react to this.

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:08am:** That is not to say I am in any way put off by this image.

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:08am:** Just a bit caught off guard.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:13am:** absinthe

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:15am:** What about it?

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:16am:** Oh, you’re drunk.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:17am:** rough night

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:20am:** And you’re coping with it by sending me a photo of you in a pair of panties?

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:22am:** hey if its good enough for cardboard me its good enough for regular me

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:23am:** Whose are they?

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:23am:** jealous?

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:25am:** Curious.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:27am:** theyre mine

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:27am:** don’t tell the paparazzi ok

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:30am:** You’re leaving showbiz, remember?

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:33am:** youre right im gonna post this on instagram

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:34am:** While I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of, perhaps it’s best not to make decisions like that while drunk on absinthe.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:35am:** youre smart cas

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:36am:** i am god damn fucking shit ass tired

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:36am:** but the tour is almost over

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:39am:** Sleep, Dean.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/17 - 11:13am:** Can’t believe I fucking sent that fucking picture to you.

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 11:39am:** It’s a lovely picture, I made it your contact photo in my phone.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 11:45am:** DUDE.

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:11pm:** I’m just kidding, Dean. I deleted it.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 12:48pm:** Why?

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 12:49pm:** I felt guilty keeping it. You weren’t in your right mind when you took the photo, or when you sent it.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 1:04pm:** [IMAGE ATTACHED]

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 1:08pm:** You have more than one pair.

 **SENT - 6/17 - 1:08pm:** Sure do.

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 1:14pm:** I’m keeping this one.

 **RECEIVED - 6/17 - 1:15pm:** You look good in pink.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/18 - 11:55pm:** A teenage girl came up to me after the show, she told me how much my lyrics spoke to her.

 **SENT - 6/18 - 11:56pm:** She said she lost her father just like I did, and the songs I wrote have really helped her.

 **SENT - 6/18 - 11:58pm:** She told me how much it meant to be able to meet me.

 **SENT - 6/18 - 11:58pm:** I feel really bad wanting to give this up.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 1:44am:** I’m sorry, Dean. I was asleep.

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:46am:** You’re up now?

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 1:46am:** Meg has an overnight guest, and apparently a mission to wake the dead.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 1:47am:** Are you okay?

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:48am:** Yeah.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 1:48am:** Drunk?

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:49am:** Nah, just writing a song. My non-alcoholic coping mechanism.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 1:50am:** How’s it coming along?

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:53am:** Needs work.

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:53am:** “Down to a level of routine, automation”

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:54am:** “I’ve got nothing but time on my hands”

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:54am:** “Down far beneath this illusion of living”

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:55am:** “Where’s my motivation —-” and then I’m stuck.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 1:56am:** That’s a really sad fucking song.

 **SENT - 6/19 - 1:59am:** You said a swear word!

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 2:05am:** “Where’s my motivation, and how long will it last?”

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 2:06am:** That doesn’t rhyme though.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 2:06am:** Sorry, I’ve never really written a song before.

 **SENT - 6/19 - 2:14am:** I love it, Cas.

 **SENT - 6/19 - 2:14am:** [VIDEO ATTACHED]

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 2:18am:** I don’t know if I’ve told you this already, but you have a beautiful voice, Dean.

 **SENT - 6/19 - 2:19am:** Get some sleep, Cas.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/19 - 6:13am:** Finally finished the song. Gonna sing it at the show tonight. It’s the last one, you know.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 10:16am:** I know. Are you scared? Sad?

 **SENT - 6/19 - 5:54pm:** Scared, no. Sad, maybe. A thing is ending. That’s sad.

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 6:09pm:** Your career as a touring musician is ending. You don’t have to stop writing songs, or stop sharing them.

 **SENT - 6/19 - 6:19pm:** You’re right. Gotta go, having an awkward final dinner with the band before the show. WOOOO MINNEAPOLIS!

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 6:20pm:** Good luck, Dean.

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 6/19 - 10:46pm:** There are pictures of you doing your acoustic song all over Twitter. You look emotional, but engaged.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 12:55am:** YOU have a twitter account?

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 12:56am:** I only follow four people. Meg, my brother Gabriel, and my former co-workers Kevin and Hannah.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 12:58am:** And me, right?

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:00am:** Fine, and you. How do you feel?

 **SENT - 6/20 - 1:14am:** Ready to fucking go home.

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:16am:** The tweets from the show were positive. People were surprised by your special song.

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:17am:** One fan said it sounded like a goodbye, and a bunch of other fans told her she was paranoid.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 1:20am:** Did you really spend your night reading about me on social media?

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:25am:** Apparently.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 1:26am:** Look at you, turning into a fan.

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:28am:** Don’t be ridiculous. I was just anxious, I know tonight was important for you.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 1:34am:** I bet you’re listening to the album right now.

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:35am:** Shows what you know.

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:36am:** I’m watching grainy cell phone videos from the concert.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 1:36am:** Let me know if you want my autograph.

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 1:40am:** I don’t need your autograph, I have a photo of you in pink silk panties.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 1:47am:** Shows what you know.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 1:47am:** They’re satin.

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 7:23pm:** I see you followed me on Twitter.

 **RECEIVED - 6/20 - 7:24pm:** And then over 3,000 of your fans followed suit and started asking me who I am to you.

 **SENT - 6/20 - 11:19pm:** whoops

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/21 - 8:17pm:** Home sweet home.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 8:18pm:** Actually I don’t have a home. I live with my mom. Moved back in after my dad died and just kind of stayed.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 8:20pm:** It’s fine, it’s a big house. But man it was weird when she started dating again.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 8:23pm:** Just got back from a big welcome back dinner. My mom invited the band. We still haven’t told people I’m leaving.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 8:23pm:** It was real fucking awkward, Cas.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 8:53pm:** It was nice of them to keep your secret?

 **SENT - 6/21 - 8:59pm:** I think they’re waiting for me to change my mind.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 8:59pm:** Still good to be home.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:03pm:** I bet. :)

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:05pm:** Everyone kept talking how proud they were of us.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:06pm:** You’ve achieved a lot in less than two years, they SHOULD be proud.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:10pm:** Been reading my Wikipedia page again?

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:11pm:** You can’t prove anything.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:14pm:** This isn’t fair, you get to cheat and learn all this stuff about me. Where’s my page full of Cas facts?

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:16pm:** One of your fans found out my full name and posted it online and linked my Twitter account in addition to articles about my brother, we’re even.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:17pm:** Are you kidding? How the fuck did they do that?

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:25pm:** Meg says it’s because I used the same screenname for Twitter and Facebook, and Facebook has my real name.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:18pm:** Cas, I am so fucking sorry, I never would have followed you if I’d known that would happen.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:19pm:** It’s a little exciting. I’ve never had people be jealous of me before.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:20pm:** There are so many theories about why you followed me, and they’re all being tweeted to ME.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:22pm:** What theories?

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:23pm:** That I’m an old friend, that we’re dating, that you followed me on accident, that you’re using me to make Benny jealous.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:25pm:** Make Benny jealous?

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:29pm:** A ton of people think you and Benny are or were lovers, and that you’re hiding it because Benny’s family is forcing him to say he is heterosexual.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:30pm:** He married a woman, but REALLY he loves you.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:34pm:** What.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:35pm:** Obviously I’ve seen the “I’m fucking Benny” theories before, but they really think that Andrea is his fucking beard?

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:35pm:** Like they HONESTLY believe that?

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:36pm:** Some of them.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:39pm:** Okay, well. Benny is straight.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:40pm:** Sure he is.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:41pm:** You suck.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:41pm:** Should I unfollow you on twitter?

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:45pm:** No, it makes me feel special. :)

 **SENT - 6/21 - 9:55pm:** You’re special Cas.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 9:58pm:** Flatterer.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:03pm:** I mean it. Your friendship or whatevership made this past month bearable, when I didn’t know how I was going to get to the end of the tour.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:07pm:** You mean our torrid love affair which is “clearly a gambit to get Benny’s attention”.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:08pm:** GOD. Joke’s on them. Benny cheated on his wife on the tour. With a woman. It’s why we’re not speaking.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:09pm:** Don’t tell anyone that.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:11pm:** I can keep a secret.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:14pm:** Tell me one of your secrets.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:15pm:** Is that supposed to prove that I can KEEP one?

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:15pm:** It’ll put us on even footing.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:20pm:** I lost my virginity to Meg.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:20pm:** I was having a little trouble coming to terms with my sexuality at the time.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:21pm:** I cried for over an hour.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:22pm:** Okay that’s kind of a bummer.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:22pm:** You asked for a secret.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:23pm:** No one but Meg knows about that.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:29pm:** My mom just came in and asked if I wanted her to tuck me in.

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:29pm:** I’m 33, man.

 **RECEIVED - 6/21 - 10:48pm:** Did you let her tuck you in?

 **SENT - 6/21 - 10:49pm:** NO.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/22 - 10:49am:** I just mowed the lawn and it was amazing.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 12:06pm:** Wow, you’re easy to please. Would you like to come clean the lipstick off this mirror too?

 **SENT - 6/22 - 12:08pm:** Maybe I would, then wouldn’t you feel stupid.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 12:09pm:** Maybe we should trade lives. You be the maid, I’ll be the rock star.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 12:14pm:** Can you sing?

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 12:23pm:** Not really.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 12:24pm:** Do you play an instrument?

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 12:55pm:** Oboe.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 2:15pm:** Jesus fucking Christ.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 2:33pm:** What?

 **SENT - 6/22 - 2:35pm:** The fucking oboe?

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 2:35pm:** I played frequently in high school.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 2:36pm:** YOU’RE A BAND GEEK?

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 2:40pm:** That’s hurtful, Naehorn.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 2:41pm:** God fucking damn it I forgot I fucking told you about Naehorn.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 2:57pm:** I’m an amazing oboe player, just so you’re aware.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 3:01pm:** Maybe we should jam instead of going to that puzzle thing. Me on my guitar, you on your OBOE.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 3:55pm:** [https](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [://](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [www](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [com](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [/](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [watch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [v](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [=](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY) [wEKsMsaMLuY](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEKsMsaMLuY)

**SENT - 6/22 - 3:56pm:** I’m scared to click this.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 3:56pm:** It’s a guitar/oboe performance.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 4:03pm:** Okay, this is a little more chill than I expected, but I could do this. Still got your high school oboe?

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 4:14pm:** No, I have a much better one. A Marigaux oboe.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 4:15pm:** So you still play?

 **SENT - 6/22 - 4:16pm:** Haha, I was confusing oboes with tubas.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 4:18pm:** THESE THINGS COST 9,000 FUCKING DOLLARS?!

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 4:36pm:** It was a prize in a contest.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 4:37pm:** Must have been a huge contest.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 4:44pm:** It was. I competed against hundreds of other hopefuls.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 4:45pm:** And you won?!

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 4:49pm:** No. :) I came in third place.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 4:55pm:** Wow, then what was first prize?

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 5:32pm:** Fifty thousand dollars.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 5:35pm:** Woah.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 5:45pm:** I’m happy with my prize.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 6:02pm:** So you’re like a professional oboe player.

 **RECEIVED - 6/22 - 6:23pm:** I’m an enthusiast.

 **SENT - 6/22 - 6:24pm:** That’s pretty fucking cool, Cas.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 6/24 - 8:12pm:** So, I talked to my mom and Sammy.

 **RECEIVED - 6/24 - 8:13pm:** How did it go?

 **SENT - 6/24 - 8:16pm:** Okay, I guess. They were confused, because to them this was out of nowhere, you know? I never told them I was unhappy with the situation.

 **SENT - 6/24 - 8:17pm:** But they were supportive. Lots of hugging and my mom felt embarrassed for inviting the band to dinner the other day.

 **SENT - 6/24 - 8:17pm:** And Sammy’s gonna help me with signing over my old songs.

 **RECEIVED - 6/24 - 8:19pm:** How do you feel?

 **SENT - 6/24 - 8:41pm:** I feel relieved, but lost.

 **SENT - 6/24 - 8:42pm:** It’s over, Cas. What the hell do I do now?

 

*

 

 **SENT - 7/07 - 5:13pm:** Well, that’s that. I signed over the performance rights to my old songs for a boatload of cash.

 **RECEIVED - 7/07 - 5:14pm:** How much is a boatload?

 **SENT - 7/07 - 5:19pm:** Do you really want to know?

 **RECEIVED - 7/07 - 5:21pm:** No.

 

*

 

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 8:59pm:** I see the news of your departure has hit the media.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 9:13pm:** Reading up on me again?

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 9:17pm:** A bunch of Happily Alone fans are tweeting me asking me what I know.

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 9:18pm:** I don’t know why they think I’m a source of information, I’ve never even tweeted you.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 9:24pm:** Which is hurtful by the way, I retweet your cool Lego pics, and you can’t shoot me a howdy?

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 9:25pm:** Fine.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 9:35pm:** So you’re just retweeting everything.

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 9:39pm:** Oh no this was a mistake. Now they think I’m making a point.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 9:45pm:** Well you WERE making a point.

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 9:46pm:** They think I am “throwing shade” about my involvement in your departure.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 9:49pm:** Do you even know what throwing shade means?

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 9:51pm:** I can infer the meaning from context.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 10:00pm:** You kinda were involved in my departure, though. Our conversation when we met.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 10:01pm:** I don’t know if I would have really made any changes if it weren’t for you.

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 10:04pm:** But I didn’t do anything.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 10:05pm:** You listened, and you let me talk, and it was all I needed.

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 10:09pm:** Oh. :)

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 10:10pm:** Don’t tell the Winchasers.

 **SENT - 7/11 - 10:13pm:** The what.

 **RECEIVED - 7/11 - 10:15pm:** That’s what your fans call themselves, didn’t you know that?

 **SENT - 7/11 - 10:16pm:** FUCKING WINCHASERS?

 

*

 

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:09pm:** Fuck I’m bored. This is why people have jobs.

 **RECEIVED - 7/20 - 1:10pm:** People have jobs so they have money to go out and do things, you have money.

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:12pm:** I guess.

 **RECEIVED - 7/20 - 1:13pm:** What did you do before all this?

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:16pm:** Before what, the tour? I hung out with my band, dude. We jammed in Benny’s garage and played shows at bars.

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:18pm:** When I wasn’t doing band shit, I was working at the garage, or playing Dungeons and Dragons sometimes, I guess.

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:19pm:** Music was my hobby, and right now I need a break from that hobby.

 **RECEIVED - 7/20 - 1:20pm:** What’s your address?

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:20pm:** Why?

 **RECEIVED - 7/20 - 1:23pm:** Fair’s fair.

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:29pm:** Maybe I don’t trust you not to send me that cardboard cutout back.

 **RECEIVED - 7/20 - 1:53pm:** I’m waiting.

 **SENT - 7/20 - 1:54pm:** Fine, fine.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 7/23 - 11:36am:** Holy shit.

 **SENT - 7/23 - 11:36am:** 2196 pieces?!

 **SENT - 7/23 - 11:37am:** Dude I haven’t built anything with Legos in 20 years.

 **RECEIVED - 7/23 - 11:58am:** You said you were bored.

 **SENT - 7/23 - 12:13pm:** Okay what the hell am I even supposed to do with this?

 **RECEIVED - 7/23 - 12:31pm:** You assemble the Legos as described in the instructions until you have finished building the Lego “Palace Cinema”.

 **SENT - 7/23 - 12:44pm:** I’ve never been so intimidated by Legos before.

 **RECEIVED - 7/23 - 2:19pm:** That cost me a 150 dollars, so you’d better build it.

 **SENT - 7/23 - 2:33pm:** WHEN THE FUCK DID TOYS GET SO EXPENSIVE?

 **RECEIVED - 7/23 - 4:09pm:** Get to work, Dean.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 7/25 - 12:24pm:** 33 years old, sitting in my boyhood bedroom putting together LEGOS while my mom is at work.

 **SENT - 7/25 - 12:35pm:** This is taking forever by the way, you couldn’t have sent me a beginner set?

 **SENT - 7/25 - 12:36pm:** It took me over an hour just to sort all the fucking pieces.

 **RECEIVED - 7/25 - 1:18pm:** It’s not a race.

 **SENT - 7/25 - 1:20pm:** Have you made this? How long did it take you?

 **RECEIVED - 7/25 - 1:23pm:** Eight days, I think. But I made a lot of modifications. It might take you less time.

 **SENT - 7/25 - 1:57pm:** I wouldn’t bet on it.

 **RECEIVED - 7/25 - 2:41pm:** It’s supposed to be time consuming, Dean. That’s the whole point.

 **SENT - 7/25 - 2:45pm:** Right. I know that. It’s just slow.

 **SENT - 7/25 - 2:54pm:** I’m not well known for my patience.

 **SENT - 7/25 - 2:59pm:** But oh well I don’t have anything better to do.

 **RECEIVED - 7/25 - 3:21pm:** That’s the spirit.

 

*

 

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:33pm:** When are we going on our date?

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:34pm:** I didn’t know you still wanted to do that.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:39pm:** Well, I do.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:40pm:** We talk every day.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:40pm:** But I miss you anyway.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:43pm:** You’re being awfully forthcoming.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:44pm:** My friend Charlie gave me a pot brownie.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:44pm:** Don’t tell my mom.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:45pm:** Of course you’re high.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:45pm:** HEY that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it. It’s POT, not absinthe.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:46pm:** I think about asking you to visit all the time.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:52pm:** I don’t know what to say, Dean. I really thought you’d lost interest. I should have asked.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 10:53pm:** Yeah, me too.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:54pm:** Oh wow, 19 hour drive.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:55pm:** I was thinking this weekend, but with an all day drive, I’ll need to take a day off ahead of time.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:58pm:** I’d have to put out for a schedule change, I can come in two weeks?

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 10:58pm:** Or just call in sick in one week.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 11:01pm:** Come tomorrow. Let me buy you a plane ticket.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 11:02pm:** That sounds expensive.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 11:03pm:** So were those Legos.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 11:03pm:** Also, I am a wealthy rock star or whatever.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 11:04pm:** Former rock star or whatever.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 11:10pm:** Alright.

 **RECEIVED - 7/29 - 11:11pm:** But I’m not helping you build your Palace Cinema set.

 **SENT - 7/29 - 11:13pm:** BUT IT’S TAKING FOREVER.

 

*

 

Dean paces nervously. Back and forth, back and forth. He got to Kansas City International Airport early. _Too_ early. He showed up at noon; a full hour before Castiel’s plane was set to arrive. He was so nervous he’d be late, he really overshot, gave himself two hours for a forty-five minute drive.

Castiel will be here soon. He’s staying in Sam’s old room tonight, and he’ll be catching his return flight on Sunday evening. Dean’s mother made plans to spend most of the weekend with her friend Jody, and the fact that Dean had to clear his mother out of the house to bring someone home is so fucking embarrassing he could scream.

He doesn’t know when it happened, really. They’ve texted nearly every day for two months, and somewhere along the line Dean developed feelings for Castiel. Maybe before their conversation about going on a date back in June, but maybe it was after. He’s not sure. He didn’t even notice it happening. One day he just realized his feelings weren’t platonic anymore.

He talked to Sam about it, asked if it was dumb to develop feelings for someone over _text._ Sam doesn’t think it’s dumb, but then again Sam’s a big floppy romantic. He talked to Charlie about it too, when she and Ash dropped by with a PlayStation 4 and a tupperware container full of pot brownies. Charlie met her girlfriend in World of Warcraft, so she’s a little more familiar with the dynamic. She told him the hardest part wasn’t how they met, just the distance, and the distance was worth it, and that was when Dean decided to broach the subject of the hypothetical date again.

There’s potential, Dean thinks. Interest. A bond. Castiel knows about Dean’s ill-suited career, Cassie leaving, his dad’s accident. Castiel even knows that Dean still dreams about the car accident, and that’s not something he’s told anyone else. In turn, Dean knows about Castiel’s odd relationship with his brothers; how they often feel like acquaintances, but with a mother that died and a father that bailed, they were determined to stick together. He knows how angry Castiel is with Lucifer for his crimes, and for getting a bunch of their family’s assets seized in the process. He knows that Castiel’s last boyfriend dumped him when Castiel had to make the move to Vegas, and he hasn’t bothered dating since, aside from the ill-fated blind date. But he’s willing to go on this date with Dean, so that’s good.

There hasn’t been much in the way of flirting aside from the pictures Dean sent, but he’s pretty sure there’s potential. Castiel wouldn’t be coming all this way if there wasn’t, right?

A couple of college guys recognize Dean. It happens sometimes, even in Lawrence. He’s “out of the business”, but he’s still willing to chat and smile and sign autographs. It’ll dial back eventually, and right now it’s a great way to be distracted while he’s waiting.

The thing about this dynamic is that sometimes when people spot someone taking selfies with fans, or signing someone’s phone case, they want in on the action. So people start trickling over, waiting for their turn. Some are obviously fans, some know who Dean is but aren’t diehard fans, and some don’t know who Dean is at all. Those are his least favorite people to encounter, the ones that _just_ want a photo with him because other people want one, because he’s famous. It’s a tad dehumanizing, it makes Dean feel like a shiny dime they happened by on the street and decided to pick up. He’s met with fans that cried, fainted, even thrown up, he’d take that any day over “oh you look important, be on my Instagram page!” He’s dealing with a few of those people now. Two guys smushing their faces next to Dean for a selfie, even though one guy called him “Dave”, and the other said “I love your show, man.” He plasters on his biggest, fakest smile; the one he uses specifically for people like this, until they get their selfie and go the fuck away.

There’s a squeal. “Oh wow, Dean Winchester! Can I get a selfie?”

Dean’s heart starts doing somersaults at the sound of Castiel’s voice. Shit. _Shit._ He was supposed to see Castiel in the crowd, and come up with just the right thing to say, and look really hot hopefully, and instead he was glaring as those two guys walked away, and…

He turns, smiling at Castiel with all the cheese he can summon. “I’d do just about anything for a pretty face like yours, darlin’.”

Castiel grins. “I bet you say that to all your fans.”

“Just the ones I fly out, hot stuff.”

Dean can’t help but be caught off guard by Castiel’s clothes. He’s only seen the guy the one time, and that was in the shirt and slacks for the hotel. That was Hotel Castiel. This is Regular Castiel, and apparently Regular Castiel wears jeans, black converse sneakers, a blue t-shirt with the main character from The Lego Movie, a blue studded wristband, bracelets with Legos and Lego heads instead of beads or charms, and a black cotton mini skirt over his pants. Dean’s surprised, but he likes it. Especially the skirt.

“Wow, I almost wore the same thing,” Dean says, smirking.

Castiel bites his lip, staring at his feet a moment before looking up at Dean. “Meg suggested I… tone it down, but I thought I might as well show up as me, right?”

Dean snorts. “What part did she want you to tone down? The Lego merch, or the skirt?”

“She suggested slacks and a nice shirt.”

“Yeah, well. I like the getup. I feel boring by comparison.” It’s a warm day, Dean’s just in jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt. Castiel lets out a sigh of relief, and Dean wrinkles his nose. “What, did you think I was going to take one look at you and bail?”

“It’s happened before.”

“Their loss,” Dean says.

Castiel steps forward then, suddenly all up in Dean’s space. “Can I kiss you?”

Dean nods slowly, stunned.

“Good,” Castiel says, leaning in, bringing their lips together.

It’s Dean’s first kiss in a long while, so hopefully he can be forgiven for the way he kind of squeaks. It’s nothing particularly intense or involved, it’s just _nice._ A sign that even though their conversations have been (mostly) platonic, they’ve ended up on the same page anyway.

When Castiel pulls away Dean glances at the bag at Castiel’s feet, grinning when he sees a case next to it. “You brought your fucking oboe.”

“Just in case you… wanted to jam.”

“Oh shit, we are _so_ gonna jam.”

 

*

 

Dean had plans for the day. Tour of the house, get Castiel settled into Sam’s old room, lunch at The Burger Stand, show Castiel around Lawrence, solve puzzles or whatever at Breakout Lawrence, dinner at Minsky’s Pizza… he had plans.

That’s not what ended up happening, though. Somewhere between dropping Castiel’s luggage off in Sam’s room and actually viewing the rest of the house things had gone awry, they’d ended up in Dean’s room. Now Dean’s sprawled out on his back in his boyhood bedroom, _making out_ with the oboe-playing maid he met in Vegas.

Who needs plans?

Castiel is a fantastic kisser; using just enough tongue to have Dean squirming with need, but not so much that Dean feels like he’s going to gag. He’s nestled comfortably between Dean’s legs, weight braced on one elbow while the other hand is holding one of Dean’s wrists down on the bed. They’ve been at it for a while now, and it’s fucking awesome, making out, maybe not trying to escalate things just yet even if they’re both pretty obviously hard. Dean could write poems, sonnets, and songs about the rough yet soft noises Castiel makes, about the shudders that went skittering through Dean’s body when Castiel’s tongue traced the shell of his ear, about the steady climb of the temperature in the bedroom.

Hell, he probably _will_ write a poem about this. There’s a chance Dean writes poems regularly and keeps them in a binder labeled “LEGAL PAPERS”. He’s a fucking lyricist, damn it, and this moment needs preserving.

“Aw, this is making me nostalgic.”

Every part of Dean goes offline at the sound of his mother’s voice. Castiel jerks and jumps away like a startled cat, repelling off of Dean and landing on the floor with a grunted “oof!”

“Jesus, Mom!” Dean whines, knowing he sounds like he’s about fifteen.

Mary Winchester just beams and shrugs. “I couldn’t _not_ let you know I was here seeing what I was seeing.”

“You’re not supposed to be here at all!” Dean groans, glancing over to where Castiel is carefully straightening his skirt.

“You told me you’d be gone most of the day, I thought I could come back and grab a few things… I can’t say I was expecting to find you, um… canoodling.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mom, _go._ ”

“But I haven’t met your friend!”

“ _Mom!_ ”

“Okay, okay, I’m going, I’m just going to grab my saline solution, and then I’m gone!” Mary looks way too pleased as she retreats down the hall.

“I can’t believe my mom just caught me _necking,_ ” Dean says, rolling onto his stomach to whimper into his pillow while Castiel closes the bedroom door.

“I feel young again,” Castiel says. Dean thinks he can _hear_ him smiling.

Dean rolls onto his back again. “How old _are_ you?”

Castiel fidgets with his bracelets. “Thirty-seven. I know I don’t dress like—”

Mary shouts “BYE HONEY!!!” from somewhere downstairs.

Dean sighs. “Hey, none of that, Cas. You should dress how ever the fuck you want,” he says, getting to his feet and walking over to where Castiel is still lurking by the door.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re attracted to my skirt?” Castiel says, playful.

“I, uh…” Dean’s eyes automatically drop down to the skirt. It shouldn’t be so exciting, it’s just some black fabric around Castiel’s waist. No frills, no designs, just soft, stretchy black cotton partially obscured by Castiel’s t-shirt. Dean reaches out, thumbs stroking against the black material.

“You, uh…?”

“Do you have a lot of these?”

“A few. Why, do you want one?”

Does he? “I don’t know if I’m really a skirt kind of guy.”

“Might go well with your panties,” Castiel says dryly.

“Do you uh… ever wear...” Dean bites his lip, staring intently at Castiel’s waist.

“No, I don’t own any. Maybe I should?”

“It can be fun,” Dean mutters, dragging his fingers down low enough to reach under, feeling the denim underneath. He wonders what it would be like to reach under this skirt and find skin and satin, maybe lace.

“I’ve never seen anyone react like you.”

Dean feels his cheeks heat. “I like what I like, man.”

“Me too. Hence the skirts. And the bracelets Meg insists I’m too old to wear.”

“I like the bracelets,” Dean says, smiling.

“I bet you’re just buttering me up so I’ll help you finish your Lego structure.”

“Would that work?”

“No. I have faith in you,” Castiel says, glancing over to the structure that’s about eighty-percent finished and sitting on Dean’s desk.

“Maybe I’m buttering you up so we can get back to the awesome kissing we were doing earlier.”

“I thought perhaps the interruption had spoiled the mood.”

Dean moves forward, backing Castiel up until he’s against the door, hands gripping the hem of the skirt. “Doesn’t feel spoiled to me.”

“The more we texted, the more interested in your music I became,” Castiel says suddenly.

“Th… thanks?”

“I would watch performance videos online, and I would find myself enchanted by your voice, mesmerized by your mouth.”

 _Interesting._ “Yeah?”

“It was confusing, for a while. We were creating this friendship through texts, and I was developing so many different feelings at once; platonic, romantic… appreciative…”

“So basically you couldn’t tell if you wanted to be my friend, my fan, or my Special Man Friend?”

“Something like that.”

“What’d you decide?”

“I decided to go with all three.”

“That mean you want my autograph?” Dean says, grinning.

“I’ll pass,” Castiel says. He hooks his fingers into Dean’s belt loops, pulling their hips together. “I just wanted you to know where I was at.”

“You’re right here,” Dean says, nosing at Castiel’s neck. He hasn’t been this into someone in a long time, he’s almost dizzy with it. Dean _wants._ He wants to write songs about Castiel’s whiskey-rough voice and kiss the words into his body, he wants to lie in bed eating popcorn while he shows Castiel his favorite movies, he wants to know what sounds Castiel makes in his sleep.

First things first, though.

He kisses Castiel, pressing him into the door as they melt together. Castiel groans, arms going around Dean’s neck. There’s tension in the air, different from earlier. It’s rich, heady, and full of intent. Castiel rocks his hips forward, and Dean feels the hard line of him, trapped under too many layers of fabric. He rucks up the skirt like he’s been itching to do since the airport, breaking their kiss so he can watch it reveal the crotch of Castiel’s jeans.

“I didn’t even know skirt fetishes were a thing,” Castiel says, voice a little breathier than it was before.

“Shut up, it’s not a fetish,” Dean grumbles. He fiddles with the button of Castiel’s jeans until it’s open, then he pulls the zipper down. Castiel watches, hands on Dean’s shoulders while Dean works the jeans down, then the boxer briefs underneath, baring Castiel’s erection. Castiel squeezes Dean’s shoulders then lets go, reaching for the hem of his skirt and tugging it down slow, slow, until it’s pulled over his cock and tenting with the strain, damp tip already wetting the fabric. Dean stares, hands slack at his sides, jaw hanging open a little.

“Not a fetish?” Castiel says softly.

“It just uh… looks good.”

“Feels good too,” Castiel says, leaning back against the door, pants and underwear still around his knees.

Dean reaches forward, hand skimming along Castiel’s thigh, tickled by the soft hairs as his hand moves under the skirt to wrap around Castiel’s cock. Castiel lets out a light gasp; not quite surprised, maybe just excited as Dean starts to move his hand, gripping Castiel firmly, stroking up, down, keeping his movements and his hold gentle.

“Feels very good,” Castiel hisses.

Dean likes the way this looks, his hand disappearing inside the skirt, the motions he can see under the fabric as he moves his hand. It’s not a fetish, though, just a thing that Dean’s getting really, really hard over. Castiel has one hand gripping the dresser near the door, the other is holding onto the coat hook on the door itself. His eyes are closed, teeth digging into his lower lip. He’s beautiful like this, voice a little higher with his whines as Dean works his cock.

“Look at you,” Dean says, free hand pressed against his own trapped and aching dick. Castiel’s eyes flutter open lazily as he thrusts up into Dean’s grip.

“Look at yourself,” he says, licking his lips. “You look close, Dean.”

“Am not,” Dean lies. He is, he so fucking is. They’ve been at this for only a handful of minutes, and Dean’s _barely_ touching himself, and he’s so god damn close to coming.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Castiel pants as Dean keeps jacking him, strokes growing a little slicker with the precome joining the party, “I think it’s… _oh_ , I think it’s enticing, how excited you are.”

“Yeah?” Dean stops watching his hand under Castiel’s skirt so he can lean in closer, breathe in the citrus-salt scent of Castiel’s skin.

“I know there’s a stigma against coming quickly, but… it’s a little complimentary—- _ah_ ,” Castiel groans when Dean gently twists his hand on the upstroke, thumb circling Castiel’s cockhead.

“Good to know you won’t be judging me when I come in like twenty seconds,” Dean huffs.

“As long as you admit you have a fetish,” Castiel says, tensing.

“Don’t have a fetish,” Dean mumbles, even though he’s pulling back to stare at the movement inside the skirt again.

“Sure, Dean… _Dean, shit_ ,” Castiel says, voice raising.

“Yeah, come on, Cas, wanna see it, wanna see you come all over your cute little skirt,” Dean growls. Castiel shakes minutely, hand slapping against the dresser once, twice, then he’s letting out a breathy, elated sigh, coming onto Dean’s hand and the skirt. Dean watches the come soak into the fabric from the inside, and yep, yep, he’s got a fucking fetish of some sort. He shoves up against Castiel, groaning and pressing his hand tighter against his own dick as he comes in his jeans, shuddering at the way Castiel mutters “wonderful” by his ear.

“Admit it,” Castiel whispers, kissing Dean’s neck.

“Could be a fluke,” Dean says, moaning a little when an aftershock rushes through him. “We’ll have to do this again, see if I react the same way.”

 

*

 

After cleaning off, Dean puts on a fresh pair of boxers and takes their now slightly soiled clothes down to the basement to put them in the washer. He comes back up after a few minutes, stalling in his doorway when he sees Castiel in a plain, hot pink nightshirt that goes halfway to his knees.

“You brought… _that_ to sleep in.”

Castiel leans against the headboard of Dean’s bed, legs stretched out in front of him. “I can change if you wanted to go out?”

“No, that’s not… uh…” Dean scratches the back of his head, walking into the room. He closes and locks the door, even though his mom is long gone, and grabs a mostly clean gray shirt off the top of his dresser to pull on.

“My wardrobe is a source of consternation for you, I see.”

“Not _consternation,_ no.” Dean’s embarrassed as he climbs into bed next to Castiel. “I just don’t usually see guys… uh… in pink nightshirts.”

“There’s no doubt a lot of garments in my closet at home that would have you stammering and blushing.”

“It’s not _bad,_ okay? It’s just—”

“Different. It’s okay, Dean.”

“And also it’s way too early in the night for us to be going to bed,” Dean adds. Castiel holds his arm out and Dean snuggles in close.

“Maybe I have jet lag.”

“From _Vegas._ ”

“Maybe I just want to cuddle and discuss your skirt fetish at length.”

“ _Cas_.”

“Or your panty fetish.”

“I hate you.”

 

*

 

They end up napping for a while, even after Castiel complains that napping on the weekends messes up his sleep schedule for work. It’s warm and cozy, and Dean feels like he’s missed this, even though they’ve never done this before.

He wakes before Castiel does, and spends some time futzing with his phone, scrolling through e-mails and social media accounts. Sam’s retweeting dozens and dozens of pictures of puppies for some reason, and Dean thumbs through them all, smiling.

“You’re not taking pictures of me, are you?” Castiel mumbles next to him.

Dean startles, almost dropping his phone. “Just looking at a bunch of pictures of damn puppies on my Twitter feed. I _can_ take pictures if you want… maybe post them on my account.”

“The people that think I’m a tool in your plan to make Benny jealous will love that.”

Now Dean _wants_ to tweet a picture. “Wanna?”

“What?”

“Wanna take a cute, sleepy selfie with me?”

Castiel’s eyes are narrowed when Dean looks over at him. “This is you marking your territory.”

“Don’t make it weird.” At Castiel’s blank look, Dean pouts. “Maybe a little. I like you, okay? I want to share that with nine hundred thousand of my closest friends.”

Castiel lets out this exaggerated, put-upon sigh, nestling in close. “Alright. But only because Meg has no idea I’m here, _and_ she follows you on Twitter. I want to see what happens.”

Dean smirks, then holds the smile as he uses his phone’s front camera to take a picture of them in bed together. Castiel’s hair is a mess, Dean’s got pillow creases on his cheek. It’s perfect.

“Alright, how do I caption this?” Dean says, thumbs poised over his phone screen.

“I have no idea.”

“I don’t either.”

“How about a smiley face?”

“I can’t just post this with a _smiley face_.”

“Why? You’ll have to forgive me, I’m not terribly social media savvy. Is a smiley face perhaps some code for aggression in the internet world?”

“You sound like me three years ago. Doesn’t take that long to pick this stuff up, really. If you used your account more than once a month you’d have the hang of it by now,” Dean says, nudging Castiel with his elbow. After a minute he types “Don’t have to party to have an awesome Saturday night”, attaches the picture, and hits “tweet”.

Those first few moments after a tweet are always wild. Dean can remember when the account was brand new and no one but Sam read anything he said. Now people respond to him the _instant_ he posts something, so fast he’s got to assume they aren’t even reading his words first. It’s the usual tweets in the first thirty seconds. “I love you!” “Te amo!” “Fuck my ass daddy!” Heart emojis by the truckload. Nothing he hasn’t seen every time he’s tweeted something in the past year. But then come the replies from people actually stopping to read his tweet and load the picture. “OMG” “IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS” “this is hot” “SO CUTE!!!!!” “but where’s benny?”... which is something Dean’s seen before and never understood exactly until now. Ha. Wait until Sam finds out. Wait until _Benny_ finds out.

Dean scrolls through his replies with Castiel still cuddled up against him, and then Castiel’s phone starts buzzing away on the floor, still in Castiel’s jeans. He smiles, snuggling closer to Dean and closing his eyes.

“That’ll be Meg texting.”

“You mad at her or something?”

“No, just amused at the idea of her frantically trying to get ahold of me,” Castiel murmurs, as his phone buzzes in a more rapid pattern, signifying a phone call. “We sometimes… bust each other’s chops as they say.”

“So not answering her is chop busting.”

“In a way.”

Dean grins, setting his phone aside just as Castiel’s phone finally stops buzzing. “Awesome.”

“So, now that you have… _shared me_ with nine hundred thousand of your closest friends, it’s time for you to do something for me.”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Change your mind on that autograph?”

“Still no. I want you to sing to me.”

Dean feels a weird ripple of tingly warmth run through him at the request. “Uh… I can uh… I can do that.”

He starts singing The Outfield’s “Your Love”, because it came up on his satellite radio station a few days ago and keeps getting stuck in his head. He’s nervous with Castiel right next to him, mumbling and tripping over several lines.

“Didn’t you used to do this professionally?” Castiel says. _Dick._ Dean manhandles Castiel until they’re both on their sides, and Dean’s spooned up behind him. He keeps singing, voice still pretty low, but steadier now that Castiel’s not _staring_ at him.

 _“I ain't got many friends left to talk to..._  
 _Nowhere to run when I'm in trouble._  
 _You know I'd do anything for you..._  
 _Stay the night but keep it undercover._  
 _I just wanna use your love tonight… yeah_ ,  
I don't wanna lose your love tonight...”

Castiel shudders against him, and Dean stops singing. “What was _that_?” he says, grinning.

“Nothing. It was nothing. Your voice is just nice, that’s all.”

“Uh huh. So nice it made you shiver?”

“Your mouth is _very_ close to my ear, Dean, it’s not out of the ordinary for soothing vocal vibrations to have… positive effects.”

“So _basically_ you’re saying singing in your ear turns you on.”

“ _No,_ I’m not saying that.”

Dean feels around to the front of Castiel’s nightshirt, grinning wider when Castiel lets out a soft gasp and rolls his ass against Dean’s front.

“Guess we’ve all got our fetishes, huh?”

“How was I supposed to know I’d react this way?” Castiel sounds hilariously annoyed. “It’s not as though I’ve had a man crooning right in my ear before.”

Dean snickers, moving his hand to more neutral territory. “It’s so nice to learn new things about new friends.”

“I can’t believe you’re teasing me about this after the way you _salivated_ over my skirt.”

“Hmm tell you what, you go put your skirt on, I’ll sing some gentle, eighties’ power ballads in your ear, and we’ll see who cracks first,” Dean says.

“My skirt is in the wash,” Castiel says, rolling in Dean’s arm until they’re facing each other. “But as soon as it’s dry, you’re on.”

“Awesome, it’ll be like a game of chicken. A sexy game of chicken.”

“What does the winner get?”

“A false sense of superiority.”

Castiel chuckles. “Your terms are acceptable.”

“Great, it’s gonna be an awesome night.”

 

*

 

They don’t end up doing a _damn thing_ for the rest of the night, or on Sunday. They order pizza to eat in bed, trade stories, watch movies on Netflix, trade handjobs, and that’s about it. It’s not at all what Dean planned, but it’s fucking awesome. All too soon though, Dean’s back at Kansas City Airport with Castiel, pouting as they make their way to where Castiel has to check in.

“You didn’t get to play your oboe for me,” Dean says, Castiel’s hand clasped in his.

“Next time I visit, I’ll play for you.”

“I could visit _you_ next, you know.”

Castiel stalls, turning to face Dean. “I like you a lot,” he says, pecking Dean on the lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Which is why I’m not going to risk you meeting Meg or Gabriel until we’ve spent more time together.”

“Wow, that sounds promising.”

Castiel kisses him again, then pulls one of his Lego bracelets off. It’s a thin, stretchy piece of cord with a dozen or so different lego heads on it. Castiel slips it onto Dean’s hand.

“Wow, it’s like you’re giving me your class pin or some shit,” Dean says.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is much better than a pin.”

It looks a little _odd_ on Dean’s wrist, certainly clashes with the green short-sleeved plaid he’s wearing, but he’s pretty sure it’s his new favorite accessory.

“I very much hope that we can do this again soon,” Castiel says, voice hopeful.

Dean smiles, still staring down at his wrist. He’s always hated goodbyes, but he doesn’t feel all that sad right now. The promise of _soon_ in the air is a cause for hope, not sadness. It’s pretty fucking cool, really.

“The sooner the better, Cas.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> :X Obviously I "creatively interpreted" the Happily Alone square, but I hope people enjoyed the story anyway.
> 
> [Castiel's butterfly](http://i.imgur.com/K7DzHmY.jpg). (From [here](http://www.goodeveryday.com/see-lego-kylo-ren-carried-far-far-away-by-a-lego-butterfly/).)
> 
> Castiel in a mini-skirt was totally inspired by almaasi's [Held in Your Tender Hands](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5301230). I read that and thought WHY DON'T I HAVE HIM IN A SKIRT IN ALL MY FUCKING FICS?


End file.
